Just sucking!

I’m about to unload, ya’ll. My smartphone screen has a film of sticky. So glad I have an Otterbox w/ screen protector. My yoga pants, which I’ve worn for close to 40 hours, have dried food, boogers, milk, juice, & a little pee on them. My head has felt like a helium tank filled it, & some fat kid is squeezing it. My tongue & throat are coated, & have sores on them . . . I guess from the high steroid dose & my pinchant for acidic foods. It’s been that way for 3 days now & is sooooo aggravating. My sinus drainage will go back to being NOT dried up (benefit of steroids is they dry up your sinuses). My nails are so long I’ve even scratched myself a few times. And my two kiddos have been tearing through this apartment like the friggin’ Warner Brothers character The Tazmanian Devil the past few days. Been trying to nail down a few urgent items for Cub Scouts before the school year starts back in a month. Started taking Mobic for the swelling in my back, but still waiting on them to call & set up physical therapy . . .

Did I mention that I gained 11 lbs in 9 days, thanks to those damn steroids?? Not to mention bloating. Yeah. That totally pissed me off. I was trying to lose weight, & now I gotta lose even more. Damn, that just sucks. So, giving up soda is the first way to cut calories. In its place, I am determined that I will substitute vitamin water. Sans chemicals, so I spent hours yesterday chopping fruits & veggies. So far, so good today. I had one beer. *Have been starving since yesterday.*  Hours on my feet, so guess whose knees & back is hurting? Yup. This genius right here! My left foot is tingly-numb, so I may have to call ortho if it keeps that up into tomorrow. And Hubs is in a major crunch at work, so we won’t see him much this week.

So, do you have a feel for where I am right now? Throat trying to close, tongue has that burned-from-hot-food feel, one foot is numb, back throbbing, head feels as if it is filled with extra air, and my nerves are completely shot to shit from kids acting like total crackheads.

I am laying on our new I-comfort bed by Serta. Sheets don’t fit, as this mother is 12″ deep. Who cares though, this matress is amazing, & well worth every penny. Easy to say when I don’t make the money, but actually, I consider being a housewife as the hardest damn job I’ve ever had, so deserve half of Hubbb’s salary-easy. And Diva . . . I just don’t know what’s wrong with her. But if I die of suspicious causes, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be surprised.

We’ve now been preparing for bed 1.5 hours. Her screaming has ceased. They only lasted maybe a minute. She is now back in her crib & silent, at the moment. However, said silence is going to break as soon as I get up to go pee, and my bladder is telling me it “can’t take much more,” much like my sanity, or back.

Good news-Diva has been singing & jabbering so much lately.  That is excellent. Today. Today’s happy has got to be having breakfast with the kiddos. I wish I could just feel good, free from aches & pains or allergies. But it’s looking like that may just be a pipe dream.

Tomorrow is library & swimming!! It will be great. Hub’s got his vacation approval today, so I’ll be looking at hotels soon. We are pretty stoked about that.  Otherwise, it’s just been a crap day, but at least I have my family, & honestly, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. They’re mine. And I’m theirs. Just wish . . . For more happy.

Peace, bitches

Untitled Mess

I returned from my hair appointment a bit ago. I imagined it would be bad, but as I got out of my car, I could hear screams of elation coming from the second floor. My son opened the front door & graciously welcomed me home. Nothing prepared me for such a sweet welcome from Diva. She was genuinely happy to see me.

I walked through the sea of toys, food, & towels (a soda was knocked over) covering the floor to let Hub’s see . . . Bombarded by chatter from all three. Something about diahrea for a disputed amount of time. As I bent over to kiss Hubs, Diva interrupted to show me something. Something on her fingertip. And it was doo-doo brown.

Dayuuum. Dayuuum. Daaaayuuuuuum!

So we head upstairs to change her diaper, which she’d “fixed” about half an hour prior, and get the shit off her finger, while explaining we don’t put our hand in our diaper.  I’d fed them lunch before I left, but they were starving upon my return. And, needless to say, no nap for Diva. There had been video games, bad behavior, lots of fun, some punishments, but Hubs enjoyed spending time w/ the kids. Win!

I got Diva squared away, & served up some snacks. My hair looks amazing. I even put on makeup.  My back was not loving sitting still for 2.5 hours, though, & so I took a muscle relaxer, & am now sleepy as all hell. But we broke the base, added platinum highlights, & finished with a gorgeous toner. Love it!! Even Diva touched my hair & said “oooohh.”

Get your happy, & don’t let OCD snatch it away. Cleaning & decluttering can wait. Kids aren’t kids long enough – so let them enjoy wallowing in toys a while.

Peace bitches!

In a fog

Yesterday the high in DFW was 69°. Texas & July? Why yes, it is. This week has been a blur. We got a new bed Tuesday. Serta icomfort. It’s delicious. Really alleviates stress on our joints. And they say it could take a month to fully enjoy it. Nope. Already are.

However, back to the fog. So Wednesday we went to the library. Both kids have long legs & skinny waists, so adjustable waistbands are a must.  But right as we get to the library door, Diva’s skirt fell down.  Damn elastic came unfastened & slid out of reach (will need my crochet hook to fish it out). We didn’t have time to run home, so I just folded the waist down & we were continuing on.  Boo was entertaining himself while we sat off to enjoy toddler-time in the children’s area, singing, dancing, stories, & rhymes. Well, this time lasted 8 minutes before Diva bolted for the doors. She ran off in search of her brother. They both came around a corner, Diva at full-speed approaching me when her skirt fell to her ankles, she came to a sudden stop, pull-ups showing, reached down, grumbled at the skirt, then pulled it up.  Scooped up kiddos, gathered books to check out, ran to the self-check computer, & we were on our way.

We ran home so I could grab new bottoms for Diva before making our way to Jaguar. They performed some engine upgrade to Hub’s car, & now the damn fan runs loudly after the engine is off. Freaked me out. 

So, I run in & grab a change, & decide to pee real quick. Then realize my underware is on inside out. I feel stupid.

The flexoryl impacts me much less than vicodin, but still makes me sluggish; like I’m in a fog. But I’ll take sluggish over bombed outta my goard.

This week Diva has been atrocious!! Hitting, slapping, throwing, throwing tantrums, screaming, fighting sleep, & my personal favorite; telling me no (defiant little wretch!). And Boo hasn’t been any better. My nerves are shot to hell. Terrified that at any second one’s head will spin 360° & start shooting pea soup from their mouth. Putting bets on which one will be more seriously injured from their rough play.

I am so exhausted. I get to go see Nicole Saturday for highlights. And will run a deli tray to a friend who burried her husband last night. Uuugh. I still can’t wrap my head around that kind of loss.

Nor can I figure out who gave my kids crack!! For the love of all things holy – why can’t Boo develop a migraine & Diva hives??? Is that wrong to wish for a reason tp meficate my little monsters? These kids need medication. My medicine is working, but no back yard & two holy terrors . . . God hasn’t put a plant on the earth that could ease that kind of mental anguish!! It really needs to be sunny & hot as hell because these two wild cats need to go swimming!!! It wears them out so they are too tired to get me this frazzled.

Currently, they have built a bunker of stuffed toys in the living room floor. Quite impressive, actually. I think my head is going to explode. They are going to kill each other, I fear. Just caught a crayon with my face. Oh I love my life.

My happy, tho, was a moment of complete lunacy. All three of us were singing at the top of our lungs as we were driving to do our errands today. I’m talking all of us belting-out words, complete with arms flailing & heads-bobbing. When I finally realized people could, in fact, see us while we were stopped at a red light, the singing turned to laughter. Riotous laughter. And it was absolutely contagious. And it lasted several minutes. My joy comes from when these two are strapped into one place. Funny. Wish I could install car seats in our apartment. It’s the only way to keep them from imminent danger caused from the other.

Guess I’ll run for now. Keep hanging on for dear life. It is dear. And this crazy ride slows to a stop way too soon. Get your happy!

Peace, bitches.

Got my happy


This was snapped just a bit ago. Me surrounded by my two loves.

Today was rough. The after-effects of vicodin finally wore off around noon, and my butt muscles were in full spasm. So I readied for another doctor visit, & relaxed while Diva slept. The rain & storms were predicted for tomorrow night, so we’d get in one more evening swim . . . Until the thunder rolled in around 3pm, bringing along high winds & a long downpour.  Poor Boo. He was so disappointed. As was I. I felt terrible.  Not to mention my on going back pain & stupid spasms.

My doctor admitted that she had underestated the damage in my back.  The radiologist confirmed I have “narrowing discs” & mentioned “L-4 & L-5″. I looked at her like she was purple & sprouted a 2nd head. She then said, they are lumbar vertebrae, which are located in your spine. Okay, good, back to English for the biology-deficient pupil. We will up my steroid dose, which should relieve the swelling long enough for me to get into see an ortho-specialist, & opted for muscle-relaxers over pain-killers. I have really screwed up my back, ya’ll. But she believes a specialist is needed for me to continue to have an active lifestyle.

“I’m not that active,” I said. I need to be.

“It says in your chart you were thrown from a horse a few months ago.” She grinned at me.

“Well, normal activities. My son’s in Cub Scouts, & I’m a Pack leader . . .”

“And your daughter is 2, right? You’re a full-time mom, & you have to be active.”

I had assumed “active lifestyle” meant being a weekend warrior-type.  It’s eye-opening all the things you take for granted until you hear words like “debilitating”.  And the last 7 days I have dreaded things like moving my body to get out of or into bed, bending over, & picking up my daughter. I worry that hugging my kids will further injure my back.

But all that faded for about 15 minutes, as I sat on the sofa with both kids in my lap. That is what I imagine heaven to be like. Both my kids, happy, content, & snuggled up safely in my arms. 

Diva got bored though. Some of her poses behind us were hysterical – like a ballerina, like a monkey, & like a tiger. It was great, though. And that happy makes whatever I have to face worth it.

Decided to chuck the pain killers & opted for muscle relaxers instead. I’ve been on both, & flexoryl is NOT a “party” drug. It just eases the muscle spasms, so I can live easier, without the loopy-effect. So I’ll be much better off. Go to see shrink tomorrow. Then jiujitsu class. It’s been rough today. But I got happy stored up for a week . . . And my son even asked to go to the library tomorrow morning. Stoked about that. I’m going to start Yoga next week. I’ll keep ya’ll posted.

Enjoy your life while you have it. A friend is burrying her husband in a few days, & I cannot begin to understand her pain.

Relish your youth, because it is gone too quickly.

Celebrate your kids, because they are grown, & the magic gets lost entirely too soon.

Embrase the chaos, because life is just fucked up. Roll with the punches & find your happy everywhere you can. Hoard that shit, but also try to share as much as you can. The world just sucks, & is in dire need of more happy.

Peace, bitches.

Hey, dammit!

I am 39 & a half. At the store, I’m not carded, as I appear to be 40 or older – easy. What the fuck?? However, I let it go. But today, my doctor shows me my spine, & tells me I have arthritis.

I’ve never been kicked in the teeth. However, I imagine that is what it feels like. To find out the excruciating pain is from fucking arthritis. Damn, fucking, shit! And one vertebrae appears to have a fracture, but will confer with the radiologist, but hopes I won’t need surgery or a cast. What the fuck?  I was just hoping for a refill on that miracle cream, & maybe a script for some massages. Massages are nice.

Arthritis. Are you fucking kidding me? Obviously, you can tell I am still processing this, & presently I am in the “extremely pissed of” stage of acceptance. A few serious car accidents, & one time getting thrown off a horse, & one time breaking my tail bone as a kid, & so I fell down the stairs . . . And my body gets arthritis? Man this sucks. I have a two-year old, for fuck’s sake. I really can’t deal with having arthritis now. Not yet. Maybe after my grandchildren are teens. Not yet.

That being said, a shot of steroid works wonders. Whole body aches, but no writhing agony at the moment. No numbness or tingling, either, which is good.

How I got here: The fracture inflamed the arthritis, as best I can understand, and that, in-turn, caused muscle spasms & inflammation, which smooshed (like my word?) some nerves. Ahh geez.

It’s the unexpected. That damn blind-side. I didn’t know arthritis or a fractured vertebrae were even “on the table”. It has been a day, ya’ll. I don’t think I am going to like being 40. I’m very apprehensive that there could be more things I haven’t worried about or mentally prepared for. And that sucks. But before I go get my medical encyclopedia for shit that breaks after 40, and launch into a full blown panic attack, fuck it. Why? I’m a tough mother, & I will take it all in stride (I have wine & insurance for meds). I kinda have to. Living still beats the alternative, so with my “big girl panties on,” I say “bring it!” I’ll get through it & whatever else comes. And I will snag happy all along the way – every chance I get!!

All I can say is “seriously?” Fucking seriously? On the upside, Diva was an angel (for the most part) today. She’s having a total meltdown now, so I will tend to her, then get ready for tomorrow, & take all my old lady medicine before turning in for the night. Grab your happy with both hands & shake that mother till glitter hits you on the face & flies up your nose.

Peace, bitches!

What day is it?

Well, shrink has me up to 3 pills a day & am supposed to do 4 if I can tollerate it. The bad thing is that with every increase, I become more aggitated, & my OCD worsens for a few days before it calms down. We agreed my rage is the first issue to get controlled. We’ll come back to the OCD, as I have stated before, I am an “extreme” case, so I’ll be in her chair for a WHILE getting my shit resolved.

And today, I have been seriously considering just saying fuck it. I’m broken. Deal with it. Diva has been especially trying today. Plus, sleeping on my parents’ guest bed really screwed up my back & neck. Yeah, you can keep that tempurpedic bed shit. I feel like I was thrown from a horse, then hit by a semi!!

Was considering going to my doctor, but the addition of heavy pain killers is less than appealing. May buy a TENS unit, since I have extensive experience with them & know how & where to use it. Plus Hubs might feel better, too. Sound investment, I think. 

Boo has been at his dad’s all week. When I complained, I got to hear, “but you see him all the time.”

Let’s look at that. Well, Ex gets busy with his life & skips getting my son. A lot. So fine. I do get him more than we agreed to, which is all the more reason to stay living so far away from him. However, my son is reaching those pivotal years, which just makes me cry because he shoukd still be 5 . . . I digress . . . Those years when a young boy NEEDS his dad around, even if said dad is a complete knob. So, the house hunt to move closer continues. What is best for my son trumps my selfish desire to keep him to myself. Plus, when he’s here, he is either antagonizing his sister or hiding out from her. So fine. He can stay with his dad this whole week without me getting all bent outta shape.

So, Diva now wants to always go to her room, which she shares with me & Hubs, & she says “night night,” but in no way actually implies she has any inclination of actually going “night-night,” it merely means she wants to go fuck up the mess of a room where we sleep. In order to get her way, I told her she must clean up the living room.

I be damned if she didn’t have all of her shit put away in 5 minutes! I also learned today she loathes “time-out” worse than Lucifer detests the Gospel. Plus, she learned “me” today, & when she points to her things, she says “me”. It’s a work-in-progress, folks. Hubs & I have her talking! Huge win!! She loves red & points it out (very loudly) whenever she sees it. And says “lo” for hello & “hi”. Houston, we have lift off!! This all seems miniscule to someone NOT battling the “terrible two’s”, but friend, let me tell you – it is a fucking nightmare.

I read Mike Rowe’s S.W.E.A.T. pledge. And brother, being a housewife has taught me more than I ever wanted to know. I think he should do a Dirty Jobs show about being a housewife. I mean, it gets dirty, can be scary, people’s lives are at stake, & it is exhausting as it is rewarding. I gotta hand it to him, though, it does give me perspective on my career as a housewife. And all of my previous jobs helped prep me for this, but parenthood is just . . . At times, cruel & unusual punishment. And other times, the best high you can get. There is simply no drug that could come close. I suppose heroin, because it is so addictive, like little giggles & tight neck hugs. I’m trying like hell for my damn happy, alright?

Today, I feel like a prisoner. My whole body aches, my mind is mush, & I just want tomorrow to be filled with an Alaskan crab ship full of happy.

I hear Diva coughing upstairs, so guess I’ll close with this nugget: store up your happy. And when you’re in a shit storm, know with all of your being that it will pass, you will get through, & just keep hoping for another shitload of happy to get dumped on you like a wrecked manure truck!

Peace, bitches.

Lots on my mind

Okay. I’m trying the deep breathing & cold water . . . Per shrink. Meds still working.

Although I do believe I had a mild heart attack Monday night – lol. Took Diva FOUR FUCKING HOURS to go to sleep. Are you fucking kidding me? I seriously about stroked out trying to keep from killing her. My son. And my mom’s dog. And their home phone. Who has a home phone? And why? Oh, to wake my toddler. Yeah. Seems legit.

I haven’t seen Boo since I dropped him w/ his dad Tuesday morning. Fucking sinus drainage is making me delightful, yet the only screams today have been from Diva. I haven’t even been close to losing my shit. And that is awesome. Even though my ears & throat are killing me. And my damn bersitis in my right hip is literally kicking my ass. I’m here, & I’m in control. And my GI spasms are really getting old. I’m okay.

Pool water was like . . . Dayum? Ice crystals??  But after dinner I asked Diva what the best part of today was: she stopped to think, then she started waving her hands & singing. I asked if it was singing & she grabbed my hands. I asked “singing with me,” & she said yes. Ahhh. Yup. My day was made!!

We practiced some words, colored, played with dolls & her dollhouse, & sang our alphabet, colors, shapes & numbers. And sinnging with me was the best part of her day!! She is getting much better at talking, & understanding not to hit, kick, or throw, as well as not yelling, screaming, or growling at me. (Note:animal from Muppets, reference).

Tonight’s bedtime was just after 7, per my shrink, & she was finally asleep around 9:30.

We are all working hard to be a happy, functional family. But that shit is hard. Apartment is still an unholy mess, but with 2 kids, it will be. Still dreaming of that house with a big back yard to let them run & play. We’ll get there.

Still working on Cub Scouts. I’ll get there. Trying to figure out cars, as Hubs wants a Vette & I want an XJL, and neither are in the budget with a half-million-dollar house all at the same time.

In life, this is certain: there are no certainties.

There are no givens. You gotta take what you got & try like fuck-all to make it work, while finding your happy, otherwise . . . Well, otherwise you’re just a rat in a cage, stinky, miserable, & trapped.

My last thoughts are about something that’s been on my mind for a week.  It’s about you. Imagine you are a hot new night club, very exclusive.  Your doorman has a guest list. Some are getting in because they wait & they come & hang out. Then you have your VIPS- these are the ones who walk past the line & cross through the velvet ropes. These are your revered friends & extended family. However, there is another group still more exclusive. This is your entourage. The ones you cannot leave home without.

For me, my entourage is a small circle of blood or legally bound family: Hubs, Boo, Diva, my parents, my sister & MIL & FIL. These are the only ones that are always with me. Can always reach me, & who I owe my utmost to. My VIPs are a close 2nd. And they still get bottle service & access to the VIP room, but that inner circle is my very first line of defense. The VIP ring fills any gaps.

As your life changes, the VIP list will, too. Some will slip from VIP to honored guests & vice versa. But that entourage list-that one is for life, & for me, it’s strictly blood. Because I know, at the gates of hell, those are the ones who would stick by me – no matter the cost, & for me, it is the same. 

Some VIPs get honorable mention here, as my VIP list is also very exclusive – I’d say around 15, with half not related, but would gladly help me bury a body & likewise. However, if I’d managed to piss off everyone, even my entourage, the entourage would still remain. I’d have to do some kind of drink specials to win back my VIPs. . .

So, what I’m saying is choose your circles. And choose them wisely. Don’t be happy you are on someone’s guest list. Make your own. And mind the bouncer doesn’t let frenemies into the VIP area for unnecessary drama in the form of stress. And know where you stand & where others stand so nobody leaves the club pissed off. And don’t be afraid of no-showing on occasion. Not because you’re a flake, but because your entourage needs you more. Or because you need some happy on your own.

Well. I’m about to rub some cream on my hip & get my sleep on so I can rock tomorrow like a happy rockstar bitch!

I don’t mean to come off all preachy, but life’s short, marriage is work, being a mom is a struggle, & only my entourage fully understand my crazy, messed-up life. But they love me unconditionally, & for that, I am forever loyal to them first-because all of them have seen me at rock-fucking-bottom like nobody else. You know, those parts we gloss over to the VIPs, & omit completely for everyone else. Most likely everyone has this list already, but keep it updated, & make a point to visit each VIP once/year. For my VIPs out of state, I’m going to implement a conference call via video chat. It’s been too long. Get YOUR happy on.

Peace & love, bitches!

Paint a picture

If a picture is worth a thousand words, lets see how many pictures are worth my words. Let me paint a few images for you.

Thursday, I run into Trader Joes. Damn hippies. I walk past a few, & about vomit from the smell of body odor. I turn onto a deserted aisle, & catch a waft of it again. I begin to feel very uncomfortable, and covertly maneuver my nose to my own pit, only to realize the horror that it is me. Oh my GOD!!! I smell worse than the hippies. 

I frantically race through cataloged memories to recount my last shower . . . It is nowhere to be found. Oh fuck!! I remember on Tuesday having to go full-on Honey-Boo-Boo & wash my hair in the sink because I needed a shower, but have not had the luxury of taking one.

And before you judge me . . . Let me share with you the single reason I can’t shower.

So, Friday morning, I announce to Hubs that I smell, & I AM taking a shower. I change Diva, & sarcastically tell him to just let her finish destroying what’s left of our bedroom, then jump in the shower. 

After what feels like seconds, was probably 20 minutes. I emerge, stank-free, clean, & ready for the day. I walk into the doorway between the bathroom & bedroom. I hear my husband snoring & see my daughter has been rummaging through my purse, has found & is eating my gum.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snarled as I snatched up Diva & retrieve the gum from her mouth and hands. She politely hands me another chewed stick from a few garments of clean laundry that are now scattered from the basket onto the floor.

“But you said she could finish destroying the room.”

“I was being sarcastic!” I said & we walked out in a huff.

I had to leave to get Boo & run to get the shopping list of junk food Hub’s made for me overnight.  Realizing she could NOT be left with him, I take her with me.
She got a 10-minute nap in the car.

We return home, where she is energized & ready for the concert & fireworks in store.  She slept roughly 20 more minutes on the way to the show.  Upon getting to the gates, a security officer comes over to me & loudly addresses the crowd, no backpacks, yadda, yadda, yadda. After he finishes, I point out my daughter is wearing diapers. I will be allowed to carry in diapers, a changing pad, wet wipes, & my wallet.

“And just how am I to carry all of that AND her?”

“Well, if that is your diaper bag . . .” So we go to another guard, & the same song & dance, & we are in, & with my backpack diaper bag.

It was one fiasco after another. She wanted to go in the bounce house, but wouldn’t let go of my hand. 4 bounces, & she was done.  A few more, and then Boo landed funky & knocked the breath out of himself, crying, & he was done.

We had really tasty food, loads of junk, soda, country music, free crap,  (Hubs even snagged a beach ball for Boo).

It was on the last snack excursion that all hell broke loose. Up to this point, our neighbors around us had been quite forgiving of Diva’s antics. However, the sun was setting and more people had crowded in, & they wanted no part of her screaming & running around bullshit. I held my hand cupped over her mouth during the last few stanzas of our National Anthem. Her retaliation rivaled the announcer on the stadium PA system.

That’s when all the newcomers turned to give me disapproving glares. As much as I wished disentary on them all, I gathered up all our things (Diva had strown all over the stands), tucked her into my arms, & headed down in search of the guys. 

I found them in the breezeway, & said “we are leaving.”  They were both relieved. Boo, who loves fireworks had even asked to leave half an hour earlier because it was really embarrassing & we were all getting exhausted from heat & chasing her down.

We got home, & watched fireworks on the big screen. I broke out glow stick wands & Gatoraide. I agreed to sleep on the couch & Boo on the sofa. Yup. Hub’s couldn’t handle Diva, so she & I shared the couch. My neck is still hurting, too.

So. She slept about 10 hours . . . Refused a nap today, so I took the kids swimming today for 2 hours (Sangria greatly aided in this endeavor). Then made Diva stay awake until 5pm. She has been asleep since 5:10.  Which means, she could be awake before dawn, but . . . If that’s the case, I am taking her to the park at sunrise until she collapses from exhaustion, then going back to sleep.

The terrible twos are fucking exhausting.  I got some happy. And that makes it all worth it. And tomorrow, Hub’s is gonna be full-on Super Dad – cuz this Mamma is fucking dead as a hammer! Seriously. I can’t go much further. And no, the pool does NOT count as a bath/shower.

Peace, bitches. Hope this made you laugh.

Detailed description of hell & happy

I guess that is why everyone liked “Radio Silence”; my post about my experience living without my husband while he traveled to India on business. Details.

If you can imagine Alice in Wonderland, but with Edward Scissorhands, set in a “problem child” reality show . . . With evil flying monkeys, that would pretty much sum up a day in my life, but really, I will work on the details a bit, if for no other reason than to make you feel better about your life.

I’ve all but given up on writing the novel. Diva has hit a new level. I’d just finished hot-gluing my son’s toy machine gun for the second time today, when Diva slammed it over his back, sending the butt of the rifle flying . . . Again.

There is something seriously messed up with her. I love her, but she’s just mean. Satan himself called earlier to let me know to keep her in church & away from him.

I am secretly terrified about visiting friends in their home this weekend. I’ll have to double check our bank account. I’m actually being serious. She breaks stuff just for the hell of it. She likes getting in trouble more than me painting her nails, coloring with or reading to her. I just cannot figure her out. She’ll be that kid who sets our house on fire, I fear.

Then, she will just sit quietly for a long time in my or Hub’s lap, and hum a song so soft & sweet, & I think to myself – is this the hell cat from 15 minutes ago going berzerk over a damn 2nd cookie??

And when she says “Mommy” I completely melt. Those are my happies. And Boo has been utterly amazing today.

I stopped myself from crying earlier. I deeply miss my husband. He is in the same bed, but Diva is firmly planted in the middle. It changes daily who she prefers, but I’d just like to cuddle with my husband, even on the couch, for half an hour. Just to feel like we are more than Diva’s minion; slaves to her every whim, or else face her wrathful vengeance. Yes, we are all terrified of the little dictator.

My selfish thoughts melted away as she started humming our song. She sang the words she knew, the rest was hummed, but with some mixed vowel sounds.

Our song. Of all songs . . . It’s the Barney theme song. But when she throws her arms around my neck & squeezes me tight, then gives me a kiss before the big finish . . . Well, friends, that’s just a whole fucking bag of happy.

Life is a fucking mess. This world & are country are simply fucked. But, there are these flecks of hope, like glitter, fine & sparkling. Grab that shit & take it with you! You’re gonna need it.

Peace, bitches!

Day 3 on higher dose

Well, the medicine really helps me to keep a better hold on my anger. However, my desire to control my daughter to achieve the behavior I expect . . . Yeah. Not happenin’. OCD is a real bitch. I am so “done” with her throwing everything from tantrums to dinner plates, fists, to sippy cups. Just want to put her in a cage till she’s house-broken – bwahahaha – not really. But she does remind me of The Muppet character Animal. Perhaps she is my OCD manifest as a person to teach me to live with it? Hmmm. Deep thought.

And her screaming . . . Oh my dayum. Even their playing is bitter sweet, as playing always turns to bickering, then Diva goes for a groin-shot to Boo, then he’s crying & she’s in time-out. Is this really how it is? Oh my God. Is this REALLY my life? The only reprieve is when they are distracted, but that only lasts a minute or two, then they are bored with me & my idea.

Boo is in his room, hiding from Diva & watching Netflix on his tablet, so it’s singing & learning time for me & Sophia.

It’s not even 8:30, & I’m counting the nanoseconds till nap time.

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